


Five Times Stiles and Derek were Caught in Compromising Positions

by house_of_lantis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:38:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times that someone in Beacon Hills have caught Stiles and Derek in compromising positions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scott McCall

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr: http://theserpentgirl.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> All images of "confused" characters from Google images.

 

[ ](http://s769.photobucket.com/user/house_of_lantis/media/21695517-d359-4d2e-b3bb-e0e73d2e7990.jpg.html)

 

_Derek growled, playfully. “You’re a very bad boy. You know what happens to bad boys, Stiles?”_

_“Are you going to do something or talk about it to death?”_

_SMACK!_

That should’ve stopped Scott from opening the door.

Of course everyone _knew_ that Stiles and Derek were together, had been for years now; that they’d been together since senior year and Derek took him on a summer road trip along the west coast so that he could meet other werewolf packs, helping Derek rebuild alliances.

“You should take me. I’m human and I’m in your pack. It’ll show that you’re serious about protecting Beacon Hills, protecting us,” Stiles said, convincingly.

Derek hadn’t been as certain, had looked to the Sheriff and to Chris Argent and to Scott’s mom for guidance. And in the end, Derek was probably the most surprised of them all when the parents agreed that taking Stiles with him was the best choice.

Scott had overhead the Sheriff jokingly say to his mom, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Stiles ends up inciting pack wars up and down the coastline. That’ll give Derek something to think about in the future.”

Three weeks later, they had returned home with Stiles marked and claimed; and Derek smelling sheepish and reeking of sex and happiness, which was a really weird, unknown scent on the Alpha, so it took them a while to figure out that’s what it was. Of course Peter was the one to point it out and Scott watched as Derek and Stiles both turned bright red, grinning at each other. No one in the pack was surprised and Lydia ended up winning the betting pool, which annoyed Scott because as Stiles’s best friend, he should’ve gotten the head’s up first and the $320. The Sheriff made Derek run through hoops for months but finally relented and gave his blessing for their relationship. Scott’s mom thought that they were adorable, even though she was a little concerned about their age difference. Chris just laughed until he was red in the face.

So they all knew and they kept their _noses_ out of Stiles’s and Derek’s sex life. In fact, they were all better off keeping their noses out of each other’s relationship business. It just made pack meetings with the werewolves, the humans, and the “elders” as Derek called them – their parents – less awkward.

Scott really needed to learn how to knock or at least just listen for context to make sure that he wasn’t interrupting something private. But Stiles and Derek joked like that all the time. How was he supposed to know that it was…this?

He stood in the loft doorway, his hand still on the metal door, staring at Stiles and Derek. Naked Stiles and Derek. Stiles on his knees, bent over, hands stretched out in front of him on the floor. And Derek tucked close behind him, one hand on Stiles’s waist, his other hand raised in the air like he was about to…oh boy.

“Uhh can we help you there buddy?” Stiles said, his face flushing a deep red.

Scott dropped his eyes to see a glowing pink hand print forming on Stiles’s pale ass cheek.

Derek raised his eyebrow, his hand still in the air.

“Ohmygod, Scott! What the fuck, man, get out of here!” Stiles shouted at him, trapped against the floor in…in that position. It was obvious to Scott that Stiles was trying to figure out whether it was better to just stay down or try to scramble away to cover up.

“I’m never going to unsee that,” Scott said, covering his eyes and shaking his head. He backed out of the loft, using his hands to feel for the door and sliding it closed.


	2. Peter Hale

 

[ ](http://s769.photobucket.com/user/house_of_lantis/media/peternotconfused.png.html)

 

He was surprised when they didn’t register his presence, but he allowed that Derek and Stiles were both quite distracted with each other when they rushed into dimly lit loft, hands busy trying to strip each other as they moved towards the bed. It was reckless for an Alpha to not sense Peter; to not acknowledge that there was another predator in the room with his eyes on Derek’s pretty little human mate.

_When would Derek ever learn to never turn his back on Peter? Why was his nephew always forgetting to protect his flank? To guard against his vulnerabilities? Did he learn nothing from Peter at all?_

It truly infuriated Peter to no end; to see Derek repeat his mistakes over and over again. None of Peter’s lessons from the past, all those summers studying von Clausewitz and Sun Tzu together, totally wasted efforts on Peter’s part to teach young Derek anything remotely useful. Utterly maddening!

Lovely innocent Paige, seductive temptress Kate, and desperately alluring Jennifer. Peter bemoaned Derek’s inability to see women as villainous until it was too late; it was why Peter was there to clean up after Derek’s mistakes. Such a thankless job, he considered, watching as Derek stroked his hands down the back of Stiles’s plump ass.  

Peter had, after all, invested a lot of time on his pet nephew, ever since Derek was old enough to understand the hierarchies of a werewolf pack and where Peter stood in their family. Even when he was a child, Peter was never sure if Derek was an ally or an enemy; and especially now that Derek stood as pack Alpha – but only because he _stole_ that power from Peter.

Granted, Peter stole that power from Laura. And in his darker moments, he acknowledged that Derek’s secret dalliance with that murderous Argent huntress had initiated their downfall and he blamed Derek, in a secret place in his heart, for every death in their family. It was an ugly and vicious inevitability, but a necessary one; he often contemplated when it would be appropriate to steal it back. If he did, he would have to do it soon before Derek claimed Stiles as his mate. A human mate would bond the Alpha’s place in the pack, tying them all together with strong family bonds and allowing Derek to draw power from the pack’s strength through Stiles. In his quieter moments, Peter regretted not giving Stiles the gift of the bite. What a powerful werewolf he would’ve made; potentially one of the strongest mates in the Hale pack, none since his sister, Talia.

Derek did look so much like his beloved sister; so much so that it did prevent Peter from ripping his head off.

_For now._

Well, that was neither here nor there.

He watched as Derek stripped Stiles of his jacket and shirt, tossing them carelessly on the floor, his mouth busy with kissing Stiles’s pale skin. Peter rolled his eyes; there was absolutely no finesse, no seduction, no element of surprise in Derek’s technique. How disappointing. And Stiles was too young and too inexperienced to know there was a difference. Peter narrowed his eyes and thought about a world where he was the Alpha and Stiles his mate. He could show the human just what it was to be taken and loved by an Alpha.

Peter may be a monster, but he knew what it was to love.

He settled back in the soft cushions of the chair, hand steepled on his chest, as he watched as Derek took Stiles down to the bed. Peter raised his eyebrows in approval, though he was annoyed by Stiles’s endless giggles.

“Ohhh yeah, take me down like I’m a deer running through the forest,” Stiles chirped, curling his legs over Derek’s hips.

Derek growled against Stiles’s neck, nipping him playfully. “Your sex talk sucks.”

“Big scary wolf,” he murmured, moaning loudly when Derek kissed across his chest to bite his pink nipple.

The boy was too smart for his own good; the constant whirring of his admirable mind and his sarcasm inevitably made him a beautiful challenge, but his lack of fear was clearly a drawback. Peter liked it when his lovers were a little scared of him. It added something, a texture to the sex.

He watched as Derek slipped his hand between their bodies, Stiles tossing his head back to reveal the clean, strong lines of his neck. He squeezed his eyes tightly, mouth wide open.

_“Yes, God, Derek, come on, please…”_

How simply alluring; how tempting it was to bite that flesh and to claim him. He didn’t know how Derek could resist; even now, Peter wasn’t sure that he could resist. He felt his fangs inch downwards into his mouth, feeling his heart beat quicken just a tiny bit.

Just enough to break Derek’s focus on Stiles.

The Alpha’s eyes flared red and his head snapped to the side, glaring at Peter through the dimness of the room. Peter smiled, cocking his head to the side, showing just the tips of his fangs to Derek. It wasn’t anything close to a challenge, but it should keep Derek on his toes.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Derek said, bracing himself over Stiles protectively.

Stiles flushed when he turned to see Peter. “Damn it, you creeper! How long have you been there? Jesus, don’t answer that.” He pushed Derek off of him, scrambling off the bed to gather up his hoodie, pulling it on. “You better have a good reason for just sitting there and—and watching, perv.”

Peter smiled. “As delighted as I am with your little performance, I am here on business. I was notified by a member of the Portland pack that there are rogue Omegas running through the west coast. She believed that they would cross through the Hale territory in the next day or so.”

“Fine. I’ll follow up on that, now get the hell out of here,” Derek said, brusquely.

No doubt he was in a hurry to return to his mate.

Peter stood politely and he gave Derek and Stiles a little nod. “Of course, she also informed me that there were a group of hunters following them. You may want to notify your…new _ally_ about our incoming guests. No doubt that Mr Argent will want to have a moment with these hunters and to warn them of our protected territory.”

He knew that Derek and Stiles would talk to the “elders” as he called them, these packless parents.

“And now, I bid you a good evening, boys. Oh, and I’ll be out of town for the next few days while you deal with this new mess,” he called, waving over his shoulder as he left the loft.

_“I swear, I’m going to run him through with one of Deaton’s knives one day,” Stiles complained as Derek soothed away his anger – or perhaps Derek would use it for more interesting purposes._

No matter, Peter did not really care. 

He had a busy night ahead of him. Lucky him, he had already caught the Omega two days ago, safely tucked away in one of Peter’s secret bolt holes. The Wolfsbane mixture was probably wearing off now and Peter tucked his hands into his jacket pockets, smiling as he felt a thrill move through him in anticipation for a pleasant few days and nights of exploratory torture and sex.


	3. Danny Mahealani

[ ](http://s769.photobucket.com/user/house_of_lantis/media/30756d55-fa3d-49a4-bd30-270ad4a9b765.jpg.html)

Jackson used to always tease him because Danny loved Beacon Hills.

_“That’s fucking lame, man, don’t you want to go see the rest of the world?” Jackson said, rolling his eyes._

_“Sure,” Danny said, smiling. “And I will; but I love being home.”_

_Jackson sneered. “What’s so great about being home anyway?”_

_“If things are rough, you know you can always crash with me, right? Nou ka hale. My house is yours, man.”_

But Jackson distanced himself from Danny and Lydia and started to show signs of manic depression and paranoia. His rage episodes were harder to contain. Danny tried to talk to Lydia, but she was certain that Jackson was just acting out of jealousy since Lydia was paying attention to Scott. No matter what he tried, he could feel Jackson slipping away. He was deeply hurt when Jackson wouldn’t tell him what was going on with him. But in the many years of their friendship, Danny learned that it was best to just wait Jackson out; that he’d eventually tell Danny whatever was brewing in his head.

So while he waited, and Danny had limitless patience for his best friend, Danny focused on his second love: school. He loved having something to do every day, attending all of his classes, going to trumpet practice for the school orchestra, or lacrosse practice after school. He was the kind of guy who flourished with a schedule. While other seniors opted for a lighter schedule, Danny’s day was jam packed with AP classes and study hall in his last period so that he could take a crack at his homework before heading off to lacrosse practice.

Danny appreciated some normalcy in his life.

Because for the last three years, there was _something_ going on in his town and a lot of the mystery was focused around his school and his friends. He could even pinpoint when things started to get weird: sophomore year when there were mountain lion attacks in the Preserves; when Scott McCall made it off the bench with some awesome lacrosse stick work; when Allison, Scott, and Stiles joined the social triumvirate of Lydia-Jackson-Danny.

When Jackson started to get bat shit crazy and Danny seriously thought of telling Jackson’s parents to hold an intervention and put him in rehab.

He knew they were keeping something from him, their odd and secretive behavior, and all the shit that happened almost every week. It was after that night at Jungle, when he was dosed with some messed up drug, that Danny decided to keep track of all the weirdness.  

He actually got the idea from Stiles, when he lured Danny to his house and pimped out his gorgeous cousin, Miguel.

_“So, is your cousin single?” Danny said, trying to get another look at him over his shoulder while Stiles dragged him to the front door._

_“Miguel?” Stiles laughed obnoxiously, shaking his head. “Miguel is so not your type, Danny, trust me. Don’t waste your time. He’s emotionally stunted; you can do better hooking up at Jungle. All right, see you later, Danny, thanks for hacking into the network for me.”_

_Danny smiled at Miguel, showing his dimples and raising his hand to wave goodbye as Stiles literally pushed him out the house, slamming the door shut in his face. Seriously, Stilinski was such a weird dude. He might actually find him attractive…if he weren’t such a spaz._

As his mother always said: _O ka makapo wale no ka mea hapapa i ka pouli._ Only the blind gropes in the dark. It was an old Hawaiian proverb: If you don’t have direction, you’ll get nowhere.

Danny had a clear direction now.

Since he had already created a back door in the program, he simply changed the cell phone parameters to include Stiles and Scott, hacking into their GPS locator. Every few nights, he’d check the system to see that Scott, Stiles, and even Allison were either in the Preserves or back at the school. A couple of days later, he would check the police blotter to find out about an “incident” that occurred on the nights when Stiles or Scott were out. They never told him what they were doing and Danny soon stopped asking.

Once, Danny went into the Preserves, to the GPS location he tracked most often, and found himself standing outside of a burned down house. He checked property registries and old editions of _The Beacon Hills Daily_ newspaper and found that the home belonged to the Hales. He didn’t remember the family, but it didn’t surprise him because he was too young to remember. He was saddened by the deaths and wondered what happened to the surviving family members.

So in the last three years, Danny kept track of his friends and used his computer skills to hack into various databases, putting together pieces of a puzzle without a reference picture. There were times when all the clues stumped him, they just didn’t make any sense no matter how Danny tried to analyze the information he gathered. The oddest thing that Danny uncovered in his snooping – and he knew it had to be total bullshit, probably just Scott and Stiles playing some supernatural roleplaying game – but the words “werewolf” and “hunter” and “Alpha Pack” popped up in their text messages quite a lot.

Before senior year began, Danny spent the summer in London with Jackson, and was pleased to see that his best friend was happier in his skin. He was relaxed, he laughed more freely like when they were kids, and he had a small coterie of friends. It was nothing like Jackson’s social life back at Beacon Hills, but it seemed like Jackson was better off without having to impress the entire student body. Or Lydia.

Jackson’s girlfriend, Abigail, was pretty and sweet; she had a wicked sense of humor and didn’t take any crap from Jackson. When she looked at him, her eyes crinkled at the edges and her smile was genuine. She was down to earth and rolled her eyes at her royal title – of course Jackson would pick a Duchess – and completely in love with Jackson. Danny didn’t like her at first because he thought she tried too hard to get him to like her, but as he got to know her, he discovered that she was perfect for his best friend.

Jackson, Abby, Danny, and a few friends from Jackson’s school rented a small house in the city and took Danny around to all the touristy places first, to get them out of the way, and then took him to their favorite places all around London.

_“You look good, real good. You look happy. I haven’t seen you like this since you were a kid,” Danny said, wrapping his arm around Jackson’s shoulders as they sat in the corner of Jackson’s favorite pub. Since before he found out that he was adopted, Danny didn’t say. Jackson knew what he was talking about though._

_“I love it here,” he said, taking a sip of his beer. “I feel like this is where I belong.”_

_“I’m glad; I really miss you, man,” he said, quietly. “It’s been weird the last couple of years. Just…there’s stuff going on back home and…I don’t know what the hell is happening.”_

_Jackson stared at him for a long moment, his mouth opening like he wanted to say something, but he sighed and looked away. “Just…be careful, okay? If anything happens, talk to McCall. He can help you.”_

_Danny thought it was a weird suggestion at the time; but he tucked that away to think about when he got home. “I know you and the rest of them have a secret. I hope that one day you’ll all be able to tell me.”_

_Jackson met his eyes. “Maybe it’s just safer if you don’t ever find out.”_

His friends teased Jackson ruthlessly, it was familiar and affectionate, and Danny was surprised to see Jackson smile with them, his blue eyes clear and amused. He was in control of himself, but easygoing in the best ways. Even when Jackson had to “run an errand for his dad” and took off to Nottingham for three days, Danny knew it was a lie, but figured that he should just let it go.

Maybe he should just let it all go. Whatever secret they had, it was theirs, and maybe Danny didn’t really need to know. He’d spent so much time trying to figure out what they were doing, what they were hiding, he’d put his own life on hold.

 _Normalcy._ Or whatever passed for normalcy in Beacon Hills anyway. When he came back, he deleted his files and stopped tracking his friends. He wanted to start his senior year with a bang and spent the rest of his summer prepping for his AP course load, prepping for the SATs, and finalizing his college applications. He decided to submit one to Imperial College London to study science or engineering. He made notes on all the required admissions tests and Tariff points. Jackson was planning to go to college in London, his first choice was King’s College, but he didn’t know what he would major in when he got there. His dad was pushing him towards pre-Law, but Jackson wasn’t interested.

So he started his senior year and made his schedule rigorous. He thought he had a good chance to get into Imperial College; if not, he knew he’d be able to get into New York University and do a study abroad year in England.

He put his books into his backpack and left the school library, heading for his car. All the buses and most of the students were gone by now. He was pretty caught up; maybe he could have a night out at Jungle, dance some of his stress away, meet a pretty boy.

_“—fucking idiot! What the hell were you thinking?” Stiles shouted, waving his hands in the air. “Why don’t you ever think before you go off and do something suicidal? I thought we talked about this the last time you went off on your own and almost got your head chopped off!”_

Danny stopped beside his car when he saw Stiles slam a dark-haired man against his jeep, pinning him back by his shoulders, getting right in his face. Danny grabbed the strap of his messenger back, frowning as he quickened his steps, ready to be back up to whatever Stiles had gotten involved in. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but from the way that Stiles kept pushing the other man against the door of his jeep, rocking it on its tires, it was heated and serious. The other man’s dark eyebrows furrowed as he glared at Stiles, his mouth moving as he said something and…

Stiles leaned in and kissed him. With tongue. Aggressive and rough, his hands going into the other man’s thick black hair, grabbing fistfuls.

Danny paused, raising his eyebrows in surprise. That was a pretty impressive move on Stilinski’s part, he thought, watching as the man wrapped his arms around Stiles, pulling him in closer.

Well, it certainly seemed that someone found Stiles attractive after all.

Danny raised his eyebrows and blinked as he watched Stiles making out with the gorgeous man he had once introduced as his cousin. “Hey.”

Stiles broke away from the kiss, his eyes kind of unfocused as he stared at Danny. “Hey, Danny. Danny!”

He pushed away from Miguel, his head nearly spinning as he looked at Danny and then Miguel and then back at Danny again. “Uh…this isn’t what it looks like!”  

“Not my business,” he said, reaching for his key fob and unlocking his doors, ducking his head to hide his smirk.

“What?” Stiles said, puzzled. “No, no, it’s not what it looks like.”

Danny tossed his backpack into the passenger seat. “It’s cool, man, what you and your cousin do is your business. I’m not judging—“

“No, no!” Stiles gave a loud laugh, his face flushed red. “He’s not my cousin!”

“He’s not your cousin?” Danny said, leaning his hip against the side of his car, raising his eyebrow.

“No, of course not, I wouldn’t _make out_ with my cousin, that’s just…ew.” Stiles made a face and shuddered dramatically. “Anyway, this is, uh, my boyfriend—“

Danny laughed as the boyfriend-not-cousin snorted.

“Shut up! You are my boyfriend!” Stiles said, haughtily. “Danny, this is Derek. Uh, Hale. Derek Hale. Derek, Danny Mahealani.”

He cocked his head, frowning slightly as he looked at Derek Hale. He remembered that in a lot of the text messages that went back and forth between Stiles and Scott, they talked about “Derek” which was synonymous with “stupid Alpha” and on occasion “sourwolf.”

Then something just clicked.

And maybe he was crazy but…it seemed to make sense.

It would explain a lot, actually.

Derek held up his hand. “Hey.”

Danny grinned slowly, looking from Stiles to Derek. “So you’re a werewolf, huh?”


	4. Chris Argent

 

[ ](http://s769.photobucket.com/user/house_of_lantis/media/chrisisconfusedtoo.png.html)

 

_We protect those who can’t protect themselves._

When Allison set the new code for the family, it was Chris’s duty as the new patriarch enforcer to send out word to the rest of their family – and to warn hunters that Beacon Hills was now Argent territory and that they would protect and defend every living being in it. He had expected push back from the Argent old guard, called a blood traitor for upholding Allison’s alliance to the Hale pack and to the werewolves. He ruthlessly defended her honor and wouldn’t hesitate to walk away from them to stand at her side; luckily, he had built enough credibility in hunting circles that people were warned away and wary of them both.

He knew the Preserves better than most, maybe even better than the werewolves, having spent his younger years in Beacon Hills orienteering and learning to track on the lands. He was just 11-years old when Gerard brought them to the small town. Chris had explored the woods, preferring a solitary childhood as his way of escaping his father’s constant vigilance and training and his younger sister’s competitive nature. Chris knew how to shoot, break down, clean, and put together nearly every weapon in his father’s arsenal before he started the 7th grade. Chris knew how to track any living creature in the woods, to kill it, skin it, and prep the meat before he started 9th grade. He knew how to kill a werewolf before he left for college. He had been inducted into the Argent Code when he was twenty; Kate had been inducted when she was sixteen.

The Argent family never stayed long in one place; two years later, they had moved up north to Washington State. Chris always believed that they were doing the right thing – protecting humans from dangerous animals. He was raised on The Code; and his heart turned to stone when he lost his best friend to a werewolf bite – when he had to take down his feral, rabid friend. It nearly made him walk away from the family mission.

Gerard always said that Chris was too sentimental for his own good.

_“You’re too soft, Chris,” Gerard said, staring at him with fierce, knowing eyes. “Katherine is running her own missions now while you wait on the sidelines for me to tell you what to do next. Maybe all you’re good for is to breed and carry on the Argent name. God knows your sister’s not going to settle down any time soon.”_

It was the kick Chris needed and he finally took his place as the family’s enforcer. After he finished college, Gerard introduced him to Victoria, the daughter of another established hunter family. She was just nineteen and there was a confidence in her that excited him. Vic was everything he wanted and needed in a partner. She was born to lead the Argent family. While he built up his security company, Vic took time off to gift him with children. They had faced two late term miscarriages and when she was pregnant with Allison, Vic was put on bed rest.

Allison was his pride and joy, but he didn’t want to lose his daughter to Gerard’s clutches. He knew that Gerard would turn Allison into another Kate – a ruthless huntress who lived beyond The Code and above the law. When his company started to gain traction, Chris moved them out of Gerard’s sphere of influence and they made a home on the east coast.

He had gone back to Beacon Hills once before when he heard that Kate had taken a team there. For years, he knew that Beacon Hills was the home of a large and peaceful werewolf family. Chris knew that the town had a permanent pack, the Hales, who were reputed to be well established in the community, protected the town from rogue werewolves, and kept their noses clean. He thought it was strange that animals could live like that, like they were human, and it took him a very long time to wrap his head around it.

Kate had settled into town for what looked like a long con. She wouldn’t tell him what she was doing and was annoyed that he was there.

_“What do you want, Chris? Why are you even here? You’re the one who took Victoria and Allison away from us, your family,” she sneered at him._

_“Why did Gerard send you here?”_

_Kate smirked, her beautiful face turning ugly. “Who said that daddy sent me here? I’m a big girl and I know how to play in the big leagues with the rest of you boys.” She winked at him. “Maybe I’m better at the game than all of you.”_

_He really wouldn’t put it past her. “Kate, just don’t do anything reckless.”_

_“Me? Do something reckless?” She said, laughing throatily._

_The door to the coffee shop opened and she looked up and smiled. Chris turned to look at who caught her attention. He looked young, just a teenager really, awkwardly long and slender limbs that he’d grow into, thin broad shoulders that he’d fill with a bit more weight and muscle, short black hair, bright hazel eyes, and a wide, cherubic smile. He looked like a boy who was in love. With a woman who was much older. How exciting and forbidden it must be for him; there was no way that the teen would ever give up Kate on his own. He waved at Kate and then walked to the counter to put in his order. Chris sighed and turned to look at Kate, raising his eyebrow._

_“I can’t have friends?”_

_“He’s a very young friend,” he said, frowning deeply. “He’s jailbait, Katie.”_

_“We’ll just keep that between us, won’t we, sweetie?” She said, getting up and picking up her bag. “Go home, Chris. I don’t need you here. My mission is nearly finished anyway and I don’t need your permission to have fun.”_

It was only many years later that he would find out, from Stiles Stilinski of all people, just what kind of damage Kate did to Derek Hale and his family and pack. Regrettable and tragic; there was nothing Chris could do to ever make up for what happened. He would give the werewolves in Derek’s pack a wide berth and protect them if they were under any threat.

Chris kept his senses on high alert as he walked the perimeter of the territory. He was very close to the border to the Hale property now and—

_“…yes, good boy, yes…Stiles…God, Stiles…”_

He walked through a grove of trees, the leaves having dropped early in the autumn to clear the way for the full moon above to provide enough light for Chris is see the two biggest troublemakers of Beacon Hills engaged in some underage _in flagrante delicto_.

One would think that having a Sheriff for a father would give Stiles a better sense of propriety; at minimum, a stronger sense of survival.

Stiles giggled, looking up at Derek. “Full moon, you have absolutely no stamina. Go on, give a little howl if you want.” He licked noisily, the sound slick and wet and dirty.

Chris sighed and rolled his eyes, watching as Stiles bobbed his head enthusiastically as Derek gripped the tree with his clawed hand, panting roughly as he looked down, his eyes focused on Stiles. Chris purposefully stepped on a branch to alert Stiles of his presence; no doubt Derek had already heard him long before.

Stiles didn’t give a shit that he was there. Derek glanced over at him, mouth opened, his other hand stroking over Stiles’s head.

He cleared his throat, tucking his gun back into his holster. “Evening, boys.”

Stiles pulled off with a noisy pop, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his plaid shirt. He glared at Chris, his hands possessively gripping Derek’s hips. “What the hell do you want? Can’t you see that we’re busy here?”

Derek tried to move away but Stiles held on to his jeans.

“Where do you think _you’re_ going? I’m not done here.” Stiles said, looking up at Derek. “We were here first; he’s the one getting a free show.”

Even on his knees, his mouth bruised and spit wet, Stiles was still the bossiest little shit in the world. Chris respected that; knew what Stiles was capable of, if the things that Allison and Isaac told him were true.

“Bit on the young side,” he commented to Derek, knowing that would get a rise out of the werewolf.

Derek growled, turning away, proverbial tail tucked between his legs.

“Shut up,” Stiles hissed at Chris, patting Derek’s thigh gently. “I’m old enough to consent – did your sister give Derek the same choice?”

Chris clenched his hands into fists; Kate’s and Gerard’s actions would always taint the Argent name. He might use intimidation tactics to get werewolves to leave a territory, but he’d never attack one without cause. That was The Code.

“Stiles,” Derek murmured, his hand stroking Stiles’s neck. “Let it go.”

“Could we have some privacy?” Stiles said, glaring at Chris.

He nodded to Derek and the werewolf returned with a nod of his own. He turned away, ignoring Chris completely, as he reached down to touch Stiles’s face gently. It was time to go home. There was nothing more to do tonight. No doubt Derek and Stiles were already walking the perimeter of the woods before they decided to…take a break. He wasn’t needed or welcomed.

Chris walked back to his truck, his hand gripping the butt of his gun when he saw the outline of a male figure leaning against the driver side door. He gave the man and the vehicle a wide berth, pulling his weapon out from the holster, keeping the muzzle pointed to the ground but slipping the safety off.

“Leave them well enough alone, Christopher.” The man laughed, fading to a loud sigh. “Young love; do you remember what that felt like? All that heat and passion; reckless sex and indulging in equally reckless behavior.”

He frowned, hearing the melodic drawl of a familiar voice. A voice of his past, many years ago; a voice he didn’t think he’d ever hear again.

It was impossible; he saw Peter Hale die at Derek’s hands. He witnessed the passing of an Alpha’s power from one werewolf to another.

“Hello, Chris,” Peter said, smiling slightly and tilting his head to the side. “It’s been…well…”

“What are you doing here?” He said, keeping his gun trained on Peter’s chest.

“Keeping an eye on things,” Peter drawled, pushing off the truck and loping slowly towards Chris. “Indulging in my usual hobbies.”

Chris snorted, widening his stance, just in case. “Your hobbies usually included killing your kind.”

“And your kind,” he said, chuckling wickedly.

It sent a shiver down Chris’s spine – and it wasn’t in fear. Something else – primal, hidden deep inside of him.

Peter reached out slowly, pushing the gun away to the side, his blue eyes meeting Chris’s gaze. He relented and huffed out a breath, putting his gun away.

“It’s been a very long time,” the werewolf said, looking him over, eyes trailing up and down. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“We were young.”

Peter grinned, nodding his head in agreement. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket and leaned his head back to look up at the night sky. “Full moon…dangerous for a human to be out, alone, unprotected.”

“My wolfsbane bullets say different,” he said, patting his holster.

“But you’re not unprotected,” Peter said, leaning a little closer to take quick whiff from him. “Even after all these years, you still wear my scent. It’s faded, but still there. I’m surprised my nephew or my Beta hasn’t picked up on it yet, but then again, perhaps not all that surprised. They are rather occupied at the time.” 

Chris swallowed, keeping his feet and meeting Peter’s eyes. “It’s only a matter of time when they figure it out.”

They heard Derek’s loud pleasure-rich howl in the distance and Chris shook his head. _Christ._

Peter laughed, the hard lines on his face changing to show his familiar boyish demeanor. “Soon, Chris, don’t keep me waiting.”


	5. Sheriff John Stilinski

 

For once, John Stilinski made it home in time for dinner. He pulled into the driveway and parked next to Stiles’s jeep. He didn’t miss the Toyota SUV parked by the curb in front of the house. _At least it was in front of the house now, not parked two streets over._ John smirked to himself, staring at the nondescript vehicle. A part of him missed the black Camaro.

He walked into the house and breathed in the scent of home and cooking. It had been a long time when he came home to this homey comfort.

“Boys, I’m home,” he called, walking into his study and shucking off his jacket. He opened the wall safe and put his weapon away. He took off his holster and belt, settling them on his desk, as he wandered back into the hallway. He saw that someone had collected the mail – probably Derek – and he flipped through the various envelopes – bills, bills, more bills – and he dropped them back on the hall table. “Guys, where are you?”

“In here, John,” Derek called from in the kitchen.

John sighed and made his way into the kitchen, expecting to see Stiles sitting on top of the counter, heels drumming on the cabinet door, as Derek spooned whatever was in the pots. “Hey.”

Derek checked the oven, closing the door and standing up. John smiled widely – steaks – and Derek’s lips gave a small, knowing twitch.

“Where’s Stiles?”

“In the living room,” Derek said, motioning the room with his head. “He’s in time out.”

John blinked. “Excuse me.”

“He’s in time out until dinner is ready,” Derek said, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.

John crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave Derek a long, steady look. “And why is Stiles in time out? He hasn’t been put in time out since he was a kid.”

“When he’s irresponsible and immature like a kid, he gets put in time out,” Derek said, his ears turning red.

“What did the kid do now?”

John imagined that he could hear Stiles protest.

Apparently, Derek did hear it. He leaned to the side and called out, “be quiet, Stiles! Time out means no talking.”

John raised his eyebrows, not jumping to conclusions, waiting for Derek to explain. “You know, when I begrudgingly approved this relationship, I didn’t give you permission to discipline him.”

“You didn’t have to; he did,” Derek said, taking a deep breath. “I’m his—“

John watched as Derek stopped himself; he was certain that the next word out of his mouth would’ve been “Alpha.”

“—his mate, um, boyfriend. It’s his responsibility to tell me when he’s over-extended or exhausted. He hasn’t taken his medicine for two days in a row; and I don’t think he’s even slept a full night. He’s been having lucid hallucinations – and I only found out about that from Lydia.”

Stiles made another protest.

“I’m glad someone had the brains to tell me!” Derek called back. He cocked his head, listening, and he looked up at John. “He didn’t want you to worry and he’ll apologize to you later.”

John sighed and shook his head, a guilty ache filling his chest. “Did he take his medicine? Is he taking better care of himself?”

_Is Derek taking care of his son?_

“Yes.”

“What kind of lucid hallucinations is he having?”

Derek sighed, running his hand over his head. “Stiles said that he’s sitting in class one minute and then the next he’s seeing things that aren’t happening. He thinks they’re warnings but he doesn’t understand; sometimes he can’t even hear.” Derek shoves his hand into the back of his jeans pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, handing it to John. “He wrote this while he was hallucinating. Scott was sitting right next to him in class and managed to pull him out of it.”

John opened the loose leaf paper to find the words “wake up” written over and over again, in Stiles’s handwriting, all over the page. He frowned, looking up at Derek. “Is this because of his sacrifice?”

Derek met his gaze. “Yes, sir. It’s starting to happen; Isaac said that Allison had a hallucination when they were together. He didn’t even know she was having one until she tried to kill him. Stiles admitted to having a few. Scott hasn’t had one yet but he’s having control issues over his werewolf. His Alpha instincts are hitting him harder than before and he’s learning meditation control techniques from Dr Deaton. We’re doing what we can to help each other, keeping an eye on each other. Lydia’s been a good anchor for Stiles, but she can’t be with him 24-7.”

John nodded and turned, walking out of the kitchen to the living room to see Stiles kneeling on the carpet, facing the corner. He wasn’t wearing a shirt – _and why was he in time out without a shirt on to start with, for goodness sakes_ – and John frowned, seeing the marks on his shoulders and arms and waist. He stepped back into the kitchen. Derek was bent over, looking into the opened oven, flipping the steaks on the grill rack.

“Have you been abusing him?”

“What?” Derek said, his eyes widening, nearly dropping the fork in his hand. “Sir, I’m not—I’d never hurt Stiles—why—“

“He’s all marked up. There are bruises everywhere, some of them faded but some of them clearly new.” He knew enough from his line of work what domestic abuse looked like; he idly thought about returning to his study to get his gun and the Wolfsbane bullets that Chris Argent gave him.  

Derek flushed, dropping his gaze. “Not…it’s not because I’m _abusing_ him—“

“Cut the bullshit, Derek—“

“No Dad, it’s not like that,” Stiles said, hurrying into the kitchen. He stepped around John and moved to stand in front of Derek. “It’s completely consensual. I like getting marked up and Derek’s got a possessive kink and he likes seeing them on me—“

_“Ohmygod,”_ Derek mumbled, mortified.

“—and we like to get a little rough but it’s not like he’s doing anything against my will. It’s just—“

“God, Stiles, enough,” John said, holding up his hand. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against his forehead. “Okay, well, that was more than I wanted to know actually.” He let out a breath and looked at his son and at Derek. Stiles wore a defiant expression his face, challenging John to accuse Derek of wrongdoing while Derek looked sheepish and embarrassed but not guilty. “Why don’t you ask Derek if your time out is over and go put on a shirt?”

“But—“

“It’s okay, Stiles, go ahead,” Derek said, putting his hands on Stiles’s shoulders, his thumbs smoothing over the fading finger marks on his skin. “We can talk during dinner.”

Stiles looked like he wanted to protest, but he nodded, giving John a meaningful look before leaving the kitchen.

“I’m not abusing him,” Derek said, clearly.

“But you hurt him.”

Derek nodded. “I’m in control, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You’re being safe?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Safe, sane, and consensual,” Stiles said, hurrying back into the kitchen, pulling down the hem of his tee shirt. “Derek’s not into anything hard core or blood play or major pain. It’s not like he’s going to do anything that’s going to put me out of commission, not with the kind of supernatural craziness we have in town.”

John looked at his son for a long moment; this was _not_ the kind of conversation he ever expected to have with Stiles. But then again, with Stiles, he wasn’t all that surprised.

“You said that Derek’s not into anything hard core…are you…okay with things?”

Stiles grinned, looking over his shoulder at Derek and then at John. “I’m pretty vanilla, dad. The only time we really have to be careful is around the full moon when Derek gets really kind of RAWR about stuff. Other than that, we’re good.”

John watched as Stiles reached out and Derek took his hand. They smiled at each other and John rolled his eyes at them.  

“Okay, well…I’m going to change out of my uniform and we can have dinner and…and talk about whatever you boys want to talk about,” he said, looking at them. If his teenage son was going to be mature enough to be honest with him about his relationship with his older werewolf boyfriend, then the least John could do was respect them and trust that his son was telling him the truth.

“Cool,” Stiles said, stepping closer and giving him a hug.

John held him for a long moment. It felt like…it felt like the last one he’d ever give his boy. His son was still a teenager, still a kid, but for all the things that he’d gone through the past year and a half, the things he’d had to do to survive, the sacrifice he made to keep John safe…his boy wasn’t a kid anymore. It felt like he was hugging the boy goodbye and welcoming a young man in his place.

“Steaks are almost done,” Derek said, smiling at them before turning to turn off the oven and opening the oven door.

“I don’t suppose I’m ever going to get a medium rare steak?”

Stiles made a face. “Forget it, dad, you’re getting a medium well done.”

John grimaced – _why did Stiles want to take all his joy_ , but then he saw Derek nodding to him behind Stiles’s back, and John laughed.


End file.
